


Bad Moon Rising

by tygermine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: dramione_duet, F/M, Werewolf Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 22:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5108222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tygermine/pseuds/tygermine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco needs to keep his head in check whilst trying to solve murders in Bangkok. Hermione is making it a little complicated...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Moon Rising

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Dramione Duet 2015

Bad Moon Rising

She was staring again. 

He could feel it. Those big brown eyes noticing every graze and bruise.

“Stop it,” he snarled at her, keeping his eyes on the file in front of him.

The way his life had been going, he should not have been surprised that he would get partnered up and stuck in the tiniest office in the Ministry with the nosiest person on the planet.

It sat just below the main factor for the misery that was his life.

He knew that if he looked up, she’d duck her head back down to look at her files. It had been happening more frequently the last three months and it was beginning to really annoy him. If she didn’t stop it he was going to rip-

“Auror Leehung needs you at a crime scene,” Angelique said, the door to their office concealing her body so that she looked like a mere floating head.

Hermione pushed back in her chair so fast, it banged against the filing cabinet behind it. 

“Excellent!” she exclaimed and gathered her coat and crime scene bag.

Angelique handed Draco the note with the address and slipped away, a wary eye on Granger as she retreated.

“You know, shouting excellent is not the best reaction to getting called to a murder,” Draco mentioned as they walked to the Apparition point in the building’s basement. 

“We don’t know that it’s a murder. It could be nothing,” she said ascending the stairs.

“All the same, it’s in bad taste Granger. You’ll get a reputation as being a bit…”

“A bit what? Enthusiastic about my job?”

Weird, bizarre, unhinged? “Odd.” Draco finished lamely.

They reached the top of the stairs and Hermione led the way to the open area for designated Apparating. It was designed to allow aurors to apparate to a site they had not previously seen. Much easier than the portkeys. 

She shot Draco a dirty look before Disapparating. 

The crime scene was in an abandoned brick building along the Chao Praya river, on Charoen Krung Road in Central Bangkok. The road wove its way from the Rama 3 district in the south through Sathorn into China   
Town in the north before coming to an end against the Lan Luang Khlong a few blocks from Khao San Road.

The building itself was a block away from the Sathorn Pier, under the Saphan Taksin elevated railway station, called the BTS.

“Still excited?” Draco asked, before swallowing a few times. The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air, along with the stench of open innards. He glanced to his left and saw her face ripple through the same emotions he’d suppressed moments earlier. 

Horror

Disgust

Sadness

Determination

“Let’s solve us a crime,” she smiled as she snapped on her gloves and stepped closer to the remains. She pulled out her wand and cast a specialis revelio. It revealed nothing.  
“It’s not a magical murder, at least,” she observed, putting her wand away.

Draco started analysing the scene at the opposite end of the room.

The victim lay in pieces, scattered around the dirt floor in clumps of flesh, hair and bone. As Draco was retrieving a finger and what was possibly a knee cap from a ventilation grate seven feet above the ground,   
Auror Leehung came up to him.

“And?” he asked around a thick Thai accent.

“Murder most foul,” Draco said, closing the evidence bag and lowering himself to the ground with the wave of his wand. “Who found the remains?”

“Teenagers looking for a place to do naughty teenager things.” Auror Leehung bumped elbows with Draco in a conspiratorial, “bet-you-did-the-same” kind of way. Draco didn’t bother to correct him. “Any idea as to cause of death?” 

“Being ripped apart has been known to have death as a side effect.”

Hermione shot him a dirty look from across the room.

Auror Leehung paled and nodded. “I’ll leave you to it.” And walked towards the exit.

Draco bent to retrieve more flesh when something tickled his nose. A scent that shouldn’t be there. It lingered under the blood, the sewerage, the damp soil, the crumbling brickwork, the citrus tang of Grangers perfume. He took a deep whiff, nearly gagged and the scent was gone. 

***

It was late by the time they got back to the Bangkok Auror office with hundreds of bags holding various parts of the victim.

Their “lab” was nothing more than another closet to mirror their office. It was a cordoned off cubicle of the bathroom, that Hermione had magically extended as the Thai Ministry of Magic was not a big fan of science. They were a magical society and that should be enough to solve crimes.

As part of an intellectual and skills exchange program between the magical communities around the world, Hermione had decided to bring modern science into the old constructs of the most conservative ministry in the far east.

Draco volunteered as an easy excuse to stay out of post war England. Had he known Granger would be there too, he would have volunteered for somewhere less dangerous. Like Syria, or South Africa.  
But here he was, three years later, helping Granger lay out a body on a metal table like a jigsaw. His stomach suddenly growled as he placed a shattered piece of rib onto the table.

Granger ignored the sound as she examined a dismembered foot.

“Hungry?” He asked her bowed head. “Yes? Okay. I’ll just-” and he swept out the door with a supernatural speed.

There was a small American butcher/deli three blocks away in Silom and the cook knew how to make the perfect burger for Draco. He wolfed down two on his way back to the lab. Mostly because he didn’t want Granger sending him her judgmental looks at his rare cooked meat patties. She had been on a vegetarian kick for the past three months and it was making her less bearable by the day. If he had to hear another lecture on the evils of meat consumption, he’d eat her. And not in the sexy kind of way like he usually imagined. He’d rip her apart and chew on her just like the victim. On. The. Table.

Draco stopped dead on the pavement.

The rib bones. Those marks. Was it possible?

He broke into a run.

***

Granger was sipping a cup of tea over the remains when Draco rushed into the lab, dropping the bag of dim sum he’d bought her on the way, on the floor.

He pulled out his wand and waved it over the remains, ignoring Grangers look of distaste as she walked over to retrieve the food. The floor was not the cleanest place in the lab.

Under the spell, the body parts dripped fluids and squelched as they lifted piece by piece, glowing red, yellow and blue in turn before returning to their spot on the table.

“Malfoy, what are you doing?” Granger asked around a mouthful of dim sum.

“Following a hunch,” he replied as the last of the body parts settled back on the table. He was trembling slightly but hid it by crossing his arms and affecting a casual lean against the wall.

“And?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged. “Any clues for Leehung?”

“It’s like he exploded from the inside out,” Granger said. “Look at the fractures around the vertebrae and ribcage.”

“Bad spell work?”

“That’s the thing, there was no spellwork. It’s like a bomb was planted in his stomach.” She chewed thoughtfully on her thumbnail. “Whatever did this was strong, very strong. Like…werewolf strong.”

Draco ignored the hairs standing up all over his body. She couldn’t possibly know. He laughed. “You’re not serious. A werewolf in Bangkok? That should leave some kind of magical signature, shouldn’t it?”

“Generally yes, most werewolf victims or remains glow silver.”

Draco felt his heart beat slow slightly. “Well, it didn’t. So it’s obviously not a werewolf.”

“Then tell me what else can cause this kind of carnage,” she pointed to the table. “What was that spell you cast?”

Draco couldn’t look at the remains any longer. He pushed away from the wall to leave. “Granger,” he turned back to her. “Take the Floo home tonight, okay?”

“Worried about me Malfoy?”

“No, just…” He sighed. “Nevermind.”

***

Hermione sat for a long time looking at the remains as a spell cleaned the bones. What had Draco done to them? Why didn’t he share the results? Ever since they’d been made partners, he’d been at best, civil. At worst, a sullen, silent shadow. Henry had often told her to just ignore Malfoy as he distracted her with kisses along her neck while he led her to the bedroom.

But Henry was no longer there to do that. To force her out of her head. To make her stop getting overwhelmed by the hurricane in her mind. He’d been transferred to the Russian Ministry and was currently listed as KIA after a mission went wrong in the Siberian tundra.

With a sigh, she got to work assembling the skull.

***

The next day Draco snapped at Granger at least three times before she shouted at him to reel in his PMS and concentrate on the job.

He would have usually had a snappy come back to that, but he didn’t want her to know how on the nose she was with that. Full moon waxing. Not his best days to be around anyone.

Draco spent the day hunched over his desk, losing himself in the paperwork that exploded bodies seemed to generate. Granger, likewise, avoided him by spending all day in the lab with the remains. It was an arrangement that suited them both perfectly.

As soon as he could, Draco clocked out and headed home. A strong sleeping potion would sort him out until the morning.

But when it came time to take the potion, Draco found himself staring at it, feeling the moon bubble in his veins. That tingle down his spine that told him sleeping is not what he wanted.

And so he grabbed his broom, cast a disillusion charm and left to fly over the rooftops of Bangkok.

As a city, it was organised chaos. Taxis, buses, cars and motorbikes vied for space on the congested roads. The pavements were choked with stalls selling everything from pad thai to vibrators. Neon signs lit the night advertising beer, ping pong shows and karaoke. It was only once he crossed the Chao Praya river, heading west, that the city began settle. He found himself in Salaya, on the north west border of the city. 

Streets gave way to dirt roads. Houses rose on stilts around him, following the paths of the smaller khlongs that wove their way out into the paddy fields.

Here it was dark.

Here it became dangerous. 

He flew for over an hour, head down, shoulders hunched and jaw clenched. 

The green fields gave way to forested mountains as he veered north into the Khao Yai National Park. Draco landed in a clearing high up in the mountain. The forest around him was vibrating with life. He stripped down and felt the cool breeze flow over his sensitive skin. 

Did he kill that girl? The spells showed no, but he didn’t trust the results. Especially when he couldn’t account for where he had spent the night of the murder. He hoped he had been in bed.

His muscles contracted at the thought, adrenaline spreading ice through his fizzing veins. The wolf scrabbling to break out.

Draco howled.

***

“Did you have to drink the bar dry?” Hermione could smell him before she saw him.

He replied by flipping the double bird at her. She pinched her nose between her thumb and index finger and with her free hand, pointed to the bones on the table.

“There are teeth marks on the bones,” she told him as he came to stand across the table from her. “Canine. Possibly a group of rabid soi dogs…”

The sois or little alleys of Bangkok housed packs of street dogs.

“I can see how much you want to say werewolf,” Draco pointed at the bones. “But you’re wrong.” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you so convinced that it isn’t a werewolf? All the evidence points to it. What aren’t you telling me Malfoy?”

“Nothing,” he pointed to the pelvic bone. “It was a big animal that took her down. Bit right through her hip and shook her a few times, dislocating it. The spell revealed nothing. Now stop acting like a dog with a bone and drop. Death by soi dogs. Case closed.”

“Case not closed!” Hermione snapped. “There are too many things that don’t add up. Maybe there’s a strain of wereism that isn’t magic? Maybe it was a dog fight victim? Maybe-

“And maybe Voldemort has risen as a fucking soi dog and is cleansing the muggle world of prostitutes, one tiny thai girl at a time.”

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath. “While some of us were out drinking their way down Khao San Road, others are being productive investigators. You know, that thing we get paid to do.”

The pelvic bone dropped onto the table with a metallic clang. Draco glared at her as she stood across from him, arms akimbo and nose in the air. He tempered his rage, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“Jealousy doesn’t become you,” he lied. 

She sputtered. “Me? Jealous of you drinking yourself into a cheap thai bar girl’s bed every night? Yes, I can totally see the appeal.”

“So I should go home every night to an empty bed and wallow in my self -pity?”

“I’m not wallowing.” She snapped.

“You’re not living either.”

“I don’t need to find life at the bottom of a bottle of Lao Khao.”

Angelique stuck her head into the lab. “Is everything okay?”

The room stilled, the air thick with rage. Silence stretched like an elastic between the two Aurors until with a shrug from Draco, it snapped and broke.

Without a word, he stripped off his white lab coat and flung it at Angelique as he stormed out of the lab.

“You two need to shag already,” Angelique said, hanging Draco’s lab coat on the hook.

“Sex doesn’t solve anything,” Hermione sniffed. “He needs to pull his head out of his arse.”

“As do most men. Anyway, what’s the update for Leehung?”

“There’s going to be more bodies. Whatever did this is a predator, and I doubt it’s finished with this city. Floo home and don’t go out. Just be safe.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I’m going hunting.”

***

Cardamon? Cloves? No. Pepper? No. 

What was that scent he had caught when they first arrived at the crime scene? Draco stood in the middle of the room. Nothing had changed since the police had left. 

He had mentally catalogued the aromas that surrounded him. The earthy tang of the ground, the musty rot of the bricks, the sewerage stench from the nearby khlong, the meaty metallic tint of old blood, the   
lingering lemon jasmine bouquet of Granger’s perfume and the spicy musk of his own scent. The anomaly. The unidentified whiff. The killer. That he couldn’t pin down. 

Allspice? Ginger?

Had the killer walked through a food market prior to the murder? Had the victim? 

Basil? Rosemary?

He took a deep breath, holding it in his lungs, rolling the taste over his tongue.

Aniseed. Almond. Nicotine.

He had it. With a smile, he left the scene, pausing every few meters to take in another deep breath, following the trail.

Hermione spotted Draco as he stepped out of the building that housed the crime scene, and onto the pavement. He turned towards her, so she ducked into the shop on her right. From behind a display of brooms, she watched as Draco passed her, walking up Charoen Krung road, past Silom and eventually into China Town.

She trailed him, stepping behind food stalls, into incense shops and flower stands, whilst trying to avoid bumping into the orange robed monks from the nearby Temple. 

The stalls that crowded pavements afforded Hermione the cover she needed, but it also made following Draco harder. He turned suddenly into a side alley, which ran alongside the Assumption Boys College and the Oriental Mandarin hotel.

The sudden quiet was unnerving. A few taxis were parked in the road, their drivers having a break. Some napped in their cars. Draco walked past them, towards the end of the ally and the old French Customs   
House that stood on the banks of the river.

It was a wreck of a building, the white paint was peeling, windows were broken and the drains sent up a cloud of stench, thick with offal.

He disappeared around the riverfront side of the building and Granger quickly crept forward. To her left was an archway that opened up on a square being overlooked by a proper Catholic Cathedral. She took a few steps further into the square, keeping the building Draco stepped around to her right.

There was a small alley between the old Customs house and the Catholic Girls School that stood opposite the cathedral. All was quiet.

Hermione stepped into the alley, glad for a respite from the hot sun. Slowly, trying to keep quiet, she moved to the end of the alley. 

Draco was nowhere in sight.

***

It was the night before the full moon and the humidity made the lights of Bangkok fuzzy, like Draco’s brain.

He took a long drag on a bottle of Lao Khao. The rice moonshine burned down his throat.

It was a muggle bar in a soi off the popular Silom Road in central Bangkok, which suited Draco perfectly. The wizarding bars were too close to home and too small to go unnoticed.

He sat alone with only his dark thoughts to keep him company.

The bottle was a third down when a body slid into the seat next to him. He gave the woman a passing glance before waving her away. “Mai kunkakrab,” he said. No thank you.

The woman laughed and helped herself to his bottle of Lao Khao. “I’m not a hooker.”

Draco sat up and looked at her, examining her face carefully. “No,” he said after a while. “No, you’re something far more dangerous.”

It was her eyes. A thin line of yellow around the violet irises gave her away. It wasn’t a golden yellow like the kind that flared up in Grangers eyes. It wasn’t a daffodil yellow that people chose to paint their houses to brighten it up. It was a yellow that reminded him of bruises and death. There was a slight growl behind her words.

She tilted her head. “Want to get out of here?”

Draco nodded.

***

The sex was violent. 

She had led him to an old townhouse about three miles from the bar. Once the door had closed behind them, she pounced. Nails scraped down limbs, leaving red trails. He had picked her up, her legs wrapped around his waist and pushed her against the rough stone wall as his fingers sought out the heat between her legs. She had pulled at his hair, making him wince and growl.

It was primal.

It was cathartic.

It left bruises.

***

“What happened to you?” Granger asked at his slight wince when he sat down across from her. Draco was exhausted and didn’t notice Granger gathering up her crime scene bag.

“Nothing,” he bit out.

She noticed the bruise peeking out from his collar. “Have a rough night?”

“Leave it.”

“Did you at least use protection?”

Draco dropped his head onto his desk and flew a double bird at the inquisitive witch.

“No time to be hungover. We have another crime scene.” 

“Brilliant,” came his muffled reply.

***

“The heart’s missing,” Hermione put her wand away and began examining the crime scene up close.

Draco was grateful he’d not eaten earlier, as his stomach roiled and threatened to make a fool of him in front of her. The full moon was that night and he was on a razors edge. Had he not been distracted by his immanent bloodlust rage, he would have actually enjoyed the way Hermione’s jeans hugged her curves and the neck of her shirt revealed a sliver of bra when she bent over.

As it was, the blood was making everything fuzzy, like he’d just drunk his way through a case of Chang beer.

“Come on,” snipped Hermione. “Usual procedure. You take that half of-“

“I know the fucking procedure,” he snapped at her.

“Then stop standing there like an intern.”

He growled and stomped away.

They were in an alley off Sukumvit Road, Soi 10 – the alley was the infamous Soi Cowboy. A road bordered by stripclubs. It was eerily quiet in the morning light, the frayed tacky facades of the businesses giving an air of decay and dismay to the surroundings.

“Stripper?” asked Leehung.

“It is a female, but that’s all I’m willing to confirm.” Hermione sighed and pulled evidence bags from her case.

The body was in worse shape than the first victim.

“There’s more than a heart missing,” she said, collecting some fingers.

“Something’s not right,” Draco announced from the front of the Pussy Cool stripclub.

“I’d say,” said Leehung nodding towards the body.

“No. Not that. The previous victim was torn to shreds, but nothing was missing.” He looked at Hermione who nodded in confirmation. “This looks like he or she took their time with the body. It’s almost Ripperish.”

“You know who Jack the Ripper is?” Hermione paused, a thumb held between her tongs.

Draco just rolled his eyes and ignored her. “It’s a pity you don’t have cctv in this area.”

“You know how it is. We under a military coup, so who cares about a few strippers.” Leehung shrugged.

“Red shirt, right?” Draco almost smiled.

“That kind of talk can get you sent for an attitude adjustment,” Leehung looked around nervously.

“For a Thai, you’re not very Thai.”

“I went to Cambridge for university. Tends to warp the Thainess, you know?” Leehung lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “I doubt we’ll get an ID. I’m more concerned about the missing body parts.”

“Me too,” agreed Hermione. “This is cold and calculated. Ritualistic.” She shot him a loaded look. He knew what she was thinking, and how right she may actually be.

What really disturbed Draco was that he couldn’t really recall his night after the sex. He had woken up in a boat drifting down the river. Had the wolf done this? Draco shuddered. “Let’s just process this place and get out of here before the bar girls arrive.”

Hermione agreed and passed him some evidence bags.

***

“What I don’t understand is why we haven’t had a similar murder in three weeks.”

Hermione was chewing on some Pad Thai as she stood in front of the metal table on which rested a wizard who had blown his face off with an unstable potion. There was a cloying smell of durian fruit in the air. This local fruit smelled like a garbage heap, but tasted rather amazing. Sweet and buttery.  
The wizard had used it in his potion to hide the smell of the stronger herbs. It had not been a good idea. Durian fruit was renowned throughout the Thai wizarding community as volatile.

“Maybe the killer left.”

Draco was holding his nose, and sounded as if he had a head cold.

“Typical,” Hermione threw the remainder of her meal away and pulled out her wand to run the autopsy charm she’d invented.

It pushed a surprised laugh out of him. “Typical? There is something very wrong with you Granger.”

“I just mean, I really wanted to catch him and now he’s gone.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

***

She was back.

He lay beside her on the dirty floor of an abandoned house close to Silom Road, catching his breath and wincing at the scratches she’d left in his back.

“That was fun,” she said and fluidly rolled to her feet.

“Going already?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m hungry.”

“Look,” he started, sitting up and reaching for his boxers. “Maybe we should head out of town if you want to eat.”

“Why?” she pulled the black dress over her head and down her slim body. “The best mexican food is just down the road.”

“Oh. I thought-“

She laughed, deep and husky. “You thought I meant people? Oh dear lost boy, people are too dangerous to eat these days.”

“So you just kill them for sport?”

“I haven’t killed anyone.” She slipped into her sandals and left.

Draco felt his soul curl up and die a little.

“I guess I did,” he whispered.

***

“Has anyone seen Draco?” Hermione asked Angelique three days later. “I need his report on the failed potion victim.”

Angelique shrugged. “Have you looked in every bar between here and the Cambodian border?”

“I don’t have time for sarcasm,” Hermione snapped.

Angelique leaned back, crossing her arms. “You’re really worried, aren’t you?”

“I floo’ed him, sent him owls, texted him on his phone, not that he ever looks at the damned thing.”

“Have you gone to his place?”

“I…well…he’s a big…”

Angelique smirked. “If you’re so worried about him, go see where he is.”

“And when I do, I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”

“You do that,” Angelique mocked cheered and went back to making a cup of coffee.

***

“Malfoy, are you home?”

Hermione stood in front of a townhouse in Bang Wa, south west and across the Chao Praya river from the city center. It was a newly expanded area of Bangkok and still boasted large houses with gardens nestled amongst brand new towering condo developments. 

Draco’s house sat in an alley that was off another alley from a small road set away from the main road. There were small children riding old bicycles at the end of the road, in front of a home shop selling sweets, milk and beer.

She shot them a nervous look before banging on the door. Still no answer. Subtly using her wand, she unlocked the door and entered the house.

It was surprisingly airy, which, well, to be honest, she had been expecting drawn curtains and gloom. Not high ceilings and sunlight streaming through large windows.

She wandered through the ground floor that housed a motorbike and a battered old couch. Kitchens were not built into these old houses and so a table against the far wall and a fridge next to it was a poor substitute.

But it was the carpet under the couch that caught Hermione’s attention. It had been disturbed, crumpled up to one side. She saw the outline of a cellar door.   
Once a basement dweller…she thought to herself as she heaved the heavy door open. 

Only, it stuck fast, as if bolted from the inside.

Why would he lock himself in his basement? With a quick Alohomora, the door opened and Hermione descended a rickety stepladder into the gloom.

The pervading damp and rot was a sharp contrast to the upstairs area. In the center of the gloom was a large cage.

Draco lay on the floor of the cage, unconscious and naked.

“Malfoy!” she cried and ran to the cage. 

He stirred and turned to see her advancing, shouting at her as she lifted her wand and unlocked the cage.

Draco scrambled to reengage the lock before moving on his hands and feet away from her to the other end of the cage. He sat with his back against the bars, legs bent.

“What the hell is going on?” she said in disbelief. Malfoy said nothing, dropping his head between his arms that rested on his bent knees.

Hermione looked at the sorry sight and the penny dropped. 

“You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

***

Draco couldn’t look her in the eye. The curse was still coursing through his system, the line between man and wolf still blurred.

“Get out,” he growled.

He wasn’t surprised at her response.

“Like hell I will,” she lowered herself to the ground outside the cage. “How long has this been going on?”

“Get. Out.”

“No.”

“I will rip you apart.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

He could taste the fear filling the room, tinted with steely determination.

“Granger, the only thing keeping you alive right now is this cage. And it’s a temporary thing. Get out.” Draco could feel the wolf beginning to take over. His jaw was already starting to morph, the pain sending   
spikes of pain into his skull. He closed his eyes to the watery light in the room coming from the open trap door.

“Its was Fenrir, wasn’t it? Voldemorts orders?”

The names sent a rush of blinding violent rage through his body and he leapt across the cage, banging into the bars where Granger sat.

To her credit, she didn’t flinch, but moved back a few inches. If he reached out his arm, he could touch her face.

“Its about Dumbledore, isn’t it? Your punishment for not killing him?” 

Draco howled in pain as his bones broke and remodelled into the wolf shape. The man was being eclipsed by the beast.

The pain paused long enough for Draco to pant out “run” before the wolf took him completely.

Hermione did as told, hurriedly setting up wards on her way out to keep him in.

One thought kept running through her mind. Was Draco the killer?

***

The howling stopped after a few hours, lessening to the occasional growl as the sun set. Hermione had distracted herself searching her archives on her phone. She had spent hours digitising the Hogwarts library during her summer breaks and saving them to a private server. Over the years, she had kept up the practice by adding any magical books she’d come across.

The research on werewolves was scattered and thin at best, relying heavily on folklore and disregarding science.  
She bitterly missed Remus at that moment. The one person who could answer all her questions.  
There were no cures. No remedies. No solutions that she liked. Granted, Draco was the pain in her arse that just kept giving. Did she think he could kill those people? Yes. Did she think he actually did it? The jury was still out on that one.

And why exactly had he turned at ten o’clock in the morning? All the data was insistent that the transformation happened at night, under the full moon. Had Fenrir or Voldemort corrupted the curse? Had she triggered something?

She became aware of the eery silence that had descended on the house. Pulling her curiosity around her as if it could dampen her fear, she made her way back into the basement.

The werewolf was stalking around the cage on all fours. 

As it spotted her, it lunged, banging in the bars, rattling the cage. Hermione gasped and took an involuntary step backwards.

Draco, as a person, was a miserable, self serving git. The only intimidating thing about him was his height. The hell with it. She’d stood up to worse creatures than an overgrown dog.  
Hermione squared her shoulders and stomped up to the cage, stopping out of range of his arms.

“You’re not that scary,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

The werewolf growled, low and deep before flinging himself at the bars again. The cage tilted dangerously before settling back with a noisy clang.

“Now, what I find curious is you turning without the full moon. And during daylight hours. I suggest you turn back into that blonde git so we can discuss this.”

The beast reared up as far as it could, howling so loudly, Hermione felt it shake her bones.

“Stop posturing and change. Now.” She resisted the urge to stomp her foot.

The wolf cut off it’s howl, surprised at her reaction and fell back onto all four paws. It stuck its head against the bars and looked at her, panting softly.  
It was too dark to see its eyes. All she could make out was a glowing yellow circle where the irises should be. It licked its chops and pushed its snout between the bars, sniffing loudly in her direction.

“Malfoy, I’ll give you to the count of three.”

It snarled.

“One.”

The snarl turned into a growl.

“Two.”

The growling grew louder ending in a sharp bark.

“Three.”

The barking morphed into a howl.

“If that’s the way you’re going to be,” she turned and began walking towards the ladder.

The snapping sound of breaking bones paused her step. Hermione kept her back straight and turned to the cage as the noises changed from cracking bones and howls to human cries.

When she turned around, Draco was kneeling in the cage panting and groaning in pain.

“Right,” she said, taking a step closer to the cage. “Let’s begin shall we?”

“Granger,” he croaked. “Water. Clothes.”

It was then that she realised he was in fact, naked. “Oh, yes.” She looked around the basement, spotting some clothes on a nearby box. She passed them through the bars before rushing up the ladder and returning with a bottle of water.

He was dressed when she came back. He took the water bottle and guzzled it down.

“Do you want to come out of the cage?”

He shook his head. “Its not safe. I don’t know when it’ll come back.”

“This curse isn’t natural,” she observed. “Come on, get out. I can’t talk to you like this.”

He spluttered a laugh and carefully unlocked and climbed out of the cage. “Yes, being a werewolf is not natural.”

“No, Malfoy. Turning when it’s not time is not natural. Who did this to you?”

He didn’t raise his eyes from the floor the entire time. “My father.”

“I doubt that even the most emotionally challenged parents would curse their only child.”

“It was a choice. Death or this. If it were up to me…”

“So your father chose this.” Hermione was disgusted.

“He reasoned turning once a month was better than not being alive at all.”

“Draco, you’re not turning once a month. You’re turning at will!”

“I don’t choose when I turn!” he shouted. “This thing. The beast. It comes when it wants. I have no control. I turn and then I wake up in places without knowing how I got there.”

“That’s normal. It’s the random turning I’m worried about.”

“Hermione,” he dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper. “I think I’m the killer.”

“No you’re not,” she snapped, but her mind was already connecting evidence and the dotted line led to him. “You can’t be. I mean, yes, all the evidence points to you being guilty, but you’re magical. It should leave   
a trace.”

“I am. I know it. The nights of the murders – I don’t recall them. Where I was, or what I did. I have no alibi. It must have been me.”

“That’s why you’ve been so skittish lately. But it doesn’t line up. The tests-” Her wand was drawn but at her side.

“The tests are wrong!” he shouted. “Tests and spells and charms are all fallible in some way.” 

He grabbed her wand hand, pushing the tip of her wand against his neck.

“Do it,” he ordered.

“Do what?”

“Kill me.”

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it a million times before.”

“Well then, now’s your chance. Do it.”

She looked into his eyes. The desperation. The wildness. The peace of absolute certainty.

“No,” she said, pulling her arm back. “If I kill you, it’ll be with my hands choking the life out of you for something you actually did.”

“I killed them. Its only right.”

“No Malfoy.”

“I did it. Kill me. There’s not enough evidence to prove I wasn’t.”

“Then let’s go do our jobs. Solve these murders and prove that you’re not the killer.”

“I may not be the killer, but I am a killer,” Draco sulked.

“Oh, tuck the self pity away Jacob and let’s get this sorted.” 

***

“Stop staring.”

They were ensconced in their tiny office at the ministry, pouring over the case files. Hermione had a magical timeline of the murders that hung between their desks.

“Where’s the yellow line?” she asked, frowning.

Draco shrugged. “It comes and goes. With some it’s permanent, with me, not so much.” His mind flashed a picture of the woman. The other werewolf. She’d told him she hadn’t killed anyone.

“People lie,” he muttered to himself.

“What was that?” Hermione asked, searching the index of her digital archive for yellow rings on irises.

“Nothing,” he shrugged. But his mind was racing. She had to be the killer, no sane person would actually confess to brutally ripping someone apart. But how the hell was he going to find her again.

He moved towards the door and Hermione jumped from her seat to stop him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I think I have a lead.”

“Then I’m coming with you,” she grabbed her bag to leave.

“No. You can’t. You’ll scare her off.”

“Oh, it’s a her then. Sleeping with the enemy? Bar girls not good enough for you?” Hermione sneered.

“Shut up.” He snapped. “Could you not trust me, just this once?”

She found she couldn’t. It was as if letting him leave would mean it would be the last time she saw him.

“No, Malfoy. I don’t trust you.” He visibly deflated. She pushed on. “Nothing you have ever done has warranted that. Yes, you’re good at your job. But it’s only because you can think like them. Like the killers. The   
murders. The sociopaths. The depraved.”

His breath whistled through his teeth as he drew it in sharply. “So be it.”

He picked her up and placed her on her feet behind him. Surprisingly gentle but disconcerting none the less.

“Malfoy…”

He had left.

***

He scoured the streets of Bangkok, desperately seeking out the scent of the woman. It was close to dawn when he picked up faint touches of it just outside Soi 4 of Nana, a renowned red light district. He strode down the alley, nose in the air, ignoring the calls of the bar girls.

And then it happened, the scent shifted, becoming mixed with the heaviness of blood. He broke into a run, following it down one side alley to the next until he stood in front of a decimated building. Without a second thought, he bounded through the plywood doors, ripping them off their hinges and letting them hit the ground with a bang.

A howl came from the upper floors. He felt his body changing, bones snapping and rearranging into it. The beast. He bounded up the narrow stairs, ripping into the old plaster as he went.

Finally, he was on the roof.

A grey wolf was hunched over a human, lapping, slurping, and chewing loudly.   
The beast ran, attacking the other wolf with the force of a tank. The two werewolves became entangled in a fight. Paws swiped out, ripping into flesh. Jaws locked into sinew and blood rained onto the ground.

“Suspendo!” Hermione cried from the obliterated doorway. Both wolves were frozen in mid-fight.

A silver wolf had a grey leg in it mouth, jaws clenched, blood dripping from the wound. The grey wolf had its nails sunk deep into the sides of the silver.

Hermione raced towards the two, stopping briefly to cast an eye on the bar girl. Her throat had been ripped open, too late to save her.

She removed silver shackles from her bag and clamped them on the paws of both the wolves, paralysing them before removing her charm. They fell apart with a heavy thud.

Draco shrank back into his human form immediately.

“The fuck, Granger?” he sputtered.

“I’ll go find your pants,” she said and raced back down the stairs, finding a pair of shredded jeans on a landing on the third floor.

***

Nitcha Forensky had been the grey wolf. She had protested her innocence all the way to the ministry.

“What’s going to happen now?” asked Draco, nursing a tepid cup of tea in their office. He had changed into a sweatshirt and tracksuit pants Hermione had bought at the Bo Be Market on the way to the office.

“She’ll probably spend the rest of her life in silver chains. She was a muggle, that’s why there was no silver on the remains. I must write a paper about this. It could be revolu-”

“She said she was innocent. Maybe she’s right?”

“Malfoy, she had the victims neck in her jaws,” Hermione pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean she killed the others. I could have just as-“

“No.” she cut him off. “You’re a world class wanker, but this curse is because you’re not a killer, not in spite of.”

Draco stood up from his seat, crowding Hermione against her desk. “I’m still a werewolf,” he whispered, his breath tickling her throat, sending goosebumps down her spine. “I should be where she’s going.”

“Don’t tempt me,” joked Hermione, trying to slip out of his grasp.

He stepped back suddenly. “So I’m just a joke to you?” he put a hand around her throat. “I could kill you right here.”

She stared him straight in the eye. “I. Dare. You.”

“If I do kill you, I need something first.” He bent down and kissed her.

Hermione had been kissed before but now she wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion, adrenaline or pure terror that made it that much better.

The kiss ended after a few moments and she gained her footing. “You got what you want. Go on.”

He dropped his hand. “Don’t be stupid Granger. I said I could kill you. Doesn’t mean I want to. But I need to know that you won’t add my involvement in you report.”

“Give me one good reason. And a kiss doesn’t count.”

He came up short. He’d hoped his seduction would work. He was an idiot to think it would work in the first place.

“Cure me.” He said.

“What?”

“I will be your very own walking experiment. Cure me and in exchange, I promise not to kill anyone.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Don’t deny you’re not tempted.” He smiled and for a moment, it seemed like the most genuine smile she’d ever seen from him.

“You know I am. But I… Malfoy, this is not a get out of werewolf restrictions free card.”

He slammed his fist into the table. “Merlin’s beard Granger, I’m here on bended knees asking for your help.”

“You’re demanding it, actually.”

“Sorry. I just… please, follow those Gryffindor instincts and help me. I’ll owe you my life.”

“How many lives do werewolves have, because you already owe me one.”

“As many as you need to fix this.”

Hermione gave him a speculative look. It was, in truth, a dream opportunity to solve a mystery she’d wanted to tackle for years. Maybe she could cure Teddy Lupin too. If she agreed, was it making a deal with the   
devil?

Draco’s eyes were completely grey, no hint of yellow in them. Fully human.

Hang the Devil, she thought, I’d danced with death and won.

“You have a deal,” she said, taking his hand and shaking it. “Now, lets get this paperwork done.”

Draco groaned loudly. “I should have gone for the silver handcuffs instead.”

The End

 

Epilogue

Six months later…

“If you draw another blood sample from me, I’m going to turn to dust,” Draco grouched.

“I’m nearly there. I’m sure. If I can just get this one little detail-“

Draco trapped her against the table. “Come on Granger, forget this chemistry.” He ran his nose along her neck, breathing her in.

“Malfoy, this is highly inappropriate.”

“We kissed.”

“Six months ago.”

“And you’re acting like it meant nothing.”

Hermione sighed. “Of course it meant nothing.” She pushed away from him. “It was a madness of the moment thing. A whim.”

“I’m feeling rather whimsical at the moment.” Draco reached for her, but she dodged out of reach.

“Malfoy, stop it. I have to work.”

“You’re scared of me, aren’t you?”

Hermione bristled. “I’m not scared of anything.”

“Then why do you keep me at arms length? I’ve been a freaking ray of sunshine every day for the past six months. That would warrant at least dinner.”

“We have dinner together every night.” She pointed out.

“Street food eaten over the examination table is not a date.”

“Oh, now you want to date? I think your wolf hormones are out of balance. Where’s that wolfsbane tonic…”

He grabbed the back of her labcoat and pulled her against him. “No more games, Granger. I…I…”

“I…what?” she looked up at him, pinned against his chest. She was daring him to say it.

“One date. One proper date. In a restaurant. In public.”

“You’re asking a lot. I’m already curing your curse, now you want a relationship too?”

He smiled. “I’m a spoiled brat. I want it all.”

She wavered.

“Look, I haven’t wolfed out in three months. I think I’m cured. I’m human.”

This was that moment, she recognised. The moment when everything can change. When realities diverge and nothing can survive. Should she agree? She had become so adept at hiding her growing attraction, she   
could surely continue. The possibility of a future with Draco, werewolf or not, scared her stiff.

“I thought you weren’t scared of anything,” he huffed a laugh into her hair.

She wasn’t, was she?

“Just know, I can still throw a decent punch.”

“I’ll never forget it,” he whispered before lowering his head and claiming the kiss he’d wanted for so long.


End file.
